Viking at Heart
by newanda.dps
Summary: When a young Saxon princess is offered to one of the Ragnarssons, it turns out that she has much more in common with the Viking way than they would have imagined. Despite having been treated like a slave by her own father, she was always ready to become a warrior; her vengeful spirit and intelligence appeals to each of the brothers. OC/Hvitserk, OC/Ivar, OC/Ubbe. Mature.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own the show Vikings or many of the preexisting characters, including Hvitserk, Ubbe and Ivar. I own my OC, Lydia, as well as her family.**

 **I am so incredibly excited to begin this story! That being said...**

 **This story enters the show at the beginning of season 5, but does not stick with the story by any means after the conquering of York. The Ragnarssons have taken over York and seem to still be at war with Wessex, but remain together with the Great Army and are (somewhat) successfully maintaining a shared leadership. I outlined this story before having watched the newer episodes, and I rather like where it goes so I'm keeping it as is. Plus, I mean- no fic involving the brothers would be any fun once they're separated. Soo here it goes.**

 **Oh, and PLEASE leave reviews! I really take reviews into consideration as I'm writing. I like to know what the readers think about my OCs mainly, and how accurately I am writing to portray the already existing characters. What do you expect to happen? What are you excited for? Does it seem a bit predictable? What would you like to see more of?**

 **Thanks in advance! YAY!**

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Lydia resisted the urge to spit in her father's face, the King of Mercia, as he hovered above her threateningly, criticizing her most recent "unbecoming behavior". These scoldings of his were nothing but regular to her, but she couldn't dim the fire that burned inside of her when this cruel, ignorant man felt the need to take out his own insecurity on his daughter. Not that he truly needed to- the people of Mercia felt his wrath, as well. He was a terrible leader, having been appointed carelessly by King Aethelwulf who was exhausted and busy attempting to handle the situation with the Northmen in York. The currently appointed King Aelfric had been at the right place at the right time- sweet talking the tired King of Wessex into temporarily sharing leadership so he could retain command of Mercia while not having to actively rule or travel. If only King Aethelwulf had known to what extreme this man would take advantage of his power. In these tougher times, King Aelfric made sure to enjoy only the most extravagant of meals and riches while those in the streets of the kingdom went hungry. He arrested and sentenced death like he felt relieved at the fact that there were now less people for him to look after. He poured his attention and money into himself and his two sons, Lydia's abominable brothers, Brunwulf and Ulfberht.

The two of them currently stood behind their father, smirking arrogantly at Lydia, as the King went on about how Lydia should show a higher level of decency and respect to her superiors- including her brothers and truly any man who seemed to wind up at their dinner table. Just this afternoon, after all, she had smacked away the hand of a strange man who claimed to be a traveler and trader, who King Aelfric found interesting enough to invite to supper. While he spoke many languages and provided many interesting tales of foreign land, he was repulsive and old. He consumed a large amount of wine and thought that he could make a friendly pass at the princess- to which she obviously declined. However, she must remember, this is a man's world. She is the property of her father and her brothers, and as such, should allow such advances in the presence of company so long as her father deems it acceptable, and so long as she does not lose her virginity before she is wed.

"I apologize, my King." She responded, trying to hide the poison on the tip of her tongue. "I was afraid he would get the wrong impression and invite himself to my chambers, in which case I know you would have denied him. I was hoping to save him from embarrassment."

The King suddenly delivered a strong blow to her cheek, with enough force to knock her onto her knees.

"You have no place and no say to make such decisions, do you understand?" She remained on the ground, holding her cheek, her hands shaking with anger. But there was no use in fighting back in this useless, miserable battle she was destined to lose. "I said, do you understand?" The King demanded once again, pulling her up to face him by her hair.

"Yes, sir." She whispered, her eyes staring into his, wondering why he chose to be like this. Tears hardly threatened to drop from the corners of her eyes when he let her loose, and she fell to the cold floor once more.

"Good." He stomped away. "Brunwulf, Ulfberht, see to it that your sister goes straight to her chambers immediately."

"Yes, father." They both replied, obviously enjoying the task they were appointed with. They saved no time yanking Lydia up off the floor by either of her shoulders painfully. Once she caught up with their quick strides, she shook their grasps looser so she was no longer being dragged and could walk for herself.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk." Brunwulf, the older of the two boys, mocked. "When is our dear little sister going to learn her place?"

"And when is my dear older brother going to learn that though it appears he is favored, he is still treated as nothing more than a dog being asked to fetch a bone?" This earned a strong shove by Brunwulf into the stone wall of the corridor, and now she was pressed against the wall, face to face with the monster himself. He held her there, his fingers gripping into the skin around her shoulders roughly. She knew he waited on some kind of reaction, such as flinching, crying, or perhaps begging. But she would never give that to him. Her hatred made her strong- and sometimes stupid. But perhaps, she thought, someday her words would lead to her death, and she could be free of this living nightmare for good. Until then-

Brunwulf placed his large hand around her jaw and stared down into her eyes. "I am going to be King one day, you pathetic little girl." He spat. "You will always just be a whore." He threw her forward and she stumbled a bit.

"When King Aethelwulf discovers the terrible mistake he's made appointing our father as King, when he sees what has happened to this once beautiful kingdom, how will you be ruler then, brother? What is your plan, then?" She pushed, unafraid. He marched towards her as Ulfberht glared at her in astonished anger, and granted a smack to the same side of her face that her father had bruised earlier.

"How dare you speak that way of your King."

"You know what I think, Brunwulf?" The younger of the two boys stalked forward, taking in the heap of woman that lay sprawled across the stone ground. "I don't think she deserves to stay in her chambers tonight." Lydia exhaled, momentarily cursing her own attitude and wit. "I think her own bed would be far too luxurious, considering her attitude." The punishment he implied was by far one of her least favorites. Brunwulf laughed in amused agreement.

"Yes, brother. I think you're right." With that, Lydia shot up quickly, hoping to outrun the two of them to her chambers and lock them out. She didn't look back, didn't think of anything else but making it to her chambers first. She heard their footsteps chasing after her, and though the boys had slightly longer legs, she was lighter and quite fast. She was tall for her age, and strong, despite her thinness which could be attributed to her general lack of nourishment. Losing the rights to meals was a common punishment her father found appropriate. But her daily chores kept her muscles strong, and her build was generally athletic. She was agile and graceful, and she cut corners much easier than her two brothers. She did wish she wasn't wearing this ridiculous semi-formal garment, which was much heavier than her normal lighter outfits- including cheaper gowns or ragged tunics and pants.

"You can't outrun us, you bitch!"

 _Watch me,_ she thought. Though she knew even if she succeeded for the night, that she would surely pay for this tomorrow, her instincts overcame her. She didn't want to sleep in the dungeons tonight- what they intended to do to make her pay for her words. The entire night would be sleepless and damp and cold, the rats gnawing at her garments, her wrists growing sore and raw from the shackles they demand she sleep in. She _hated_ the dungeons.

Finally, the door to her room was in sight. Hope fluttered in Lydia's chest and she lunged forward powerfully, almost making it before she was snagged from behind. Ulfberht wrapped her in a powerful hold, his hands clasped around her bosom. She thrashed and kicked and yelled, but no one would come to her aid. The boys cackled at her utter desperation and helplessness. In this world, no one had the rights to stand up for her against such treachery and torture. Even her mother, who played the role of a docile, afraid mouse lingering in the King's shadow, would shame her for her rebelliousness and unwillingness to comply with their new family dynamic. Before their rise to rulership, her father was hardly involved in the raising of the children, but now that he saw them as pawns in a larger game that could benefit him to some capacity… Now he sought to manipulate his children, though Lydia was more stubborn than her foolish brothers.

Her brothers didn't make it far down the hallway with Lydia when a member of her father's army hustled down to catch them.

"Prince Brunwulf, Prince Ulfberht." He nodded out of respect. "We have just had orders from the King that the Princess should be tended to tonight in her chambers." Lydia glanced at the guard in shock.

" _Tended_ to?" Brunwulf elicited the same amount of disgusted surprise. "Why?"

"The King says we have visitors tomorrow, and the Princess must look presentable. The servants will be sent shortly to ensure that she does. He sent me now, only to demand for you to stop- _in case_ she had earned further punishment." He looked at Lydia as if expressing that of _course_ in the walk to her room, she would have done something to earn punishment. Lydia writhed a bit before her brother let her go. She straightened her dresses, giving the boys a cocky glare.

"If you'll excuse me." She turned to walk back to her chambers, followed by the guard.

"You know what this means, don't you?" Brunwulf yelled after her. "I was right after all." Lydia glanced back curiously; thought didn't say anything in hopes of not giving him whatever satisfaction he was seeking. "If father is having you made presentable tonight, it is only because he is making you somebody's whore tomorrow." He grinned devilishly. Lydia's stomach dropped as it dawned on her that her moronic brother was right; it was a strong possibility she was being offered to be wed.

Regardless, she didn't let her worry and fear show on her face, or in her voice.

"If it is so, I am glad." Her brothers gave her looks as though they were calling her bluff. "If I am to be wedded, at least I will no longer have to wonder these halls, answering to two unintelligent egotistical, pig-headed half-wits that I absolutely cannot believe I am related to. God help whatever poor woman gets handed over to the likes of you." With that, she turned, satisfied with her retort, and entered her rooms. She enjoyed the baths and healing treatments that were given to her by the servants she had befriended while being treated as a servant herself. She was quiet that night, even when they tried to make conversation. She was lost considering the idea of being offered up as some sort of bargain. While part of her knew that her father would never do business with anyone who was anything less than selfish and repugnant, she allowed herself to imagine what life would be like if she were given to someone who would value and love her. What if she was given the opportunity to have a second life? What if she was given a new life where she wasn't beaten every day, or spat at, or thrown into the mud?

Her eyes welled with tears, remembering that she had thought she could have that once before. She had fallen in love, only to have it ripped away from her by her father. She welled with anger at the memory, and when everyone had left her to be alone in her rooms for the night, she swept everything off her desk onto the floor in anger. She threw a number of items across the room, one cracking her large mirror into three pieces. Once she settled, she walked to the mirror with a strange, floating calmness. She looked at herself deliberately for the first time in what felt like forever. She had a soft face despite that she was underweight. Her lips were smooth and pretty, and her eyes glimmered a beautiful light green color which contrasted interestingly with her dark hair and long, dark lashes. Her hair, usually stringy and greasy, was full and smooth, tucked into a strange number of twists and curls, likely to be undone tomorrow morning. A single tear fell down her pale cheek; in that moment, she vowed that no matter what happened tomorrow, she would return to this Kingdom, and she would put an end to her father's reign.

She would kill them all, and give the power back to the people who now suffered.

She would carry the heads of her two brothers, and of her father. She would taste their blood.

She would make them pay.

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 **Thanks for reading! Please, review review review! It really drives me to keep writing. Anddd I'll give a shout out and in-depth answer to the most thoughtful review in the next chapter. (:**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own the show Vikings or many of the preexisting characters, including Hvitserk, Ubbe and Ivar. I own my OC, Lydia, as well as her family.**

 **THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH for the follows, favorites, etc. I am so excited this story is getting so much attention! Special shout out to Rhapsody and Adhara Snow for their reviews! Rhapsody, thank you** ** _so_** **much for this review! As I had previously mentioned, I kind of outlined this story before the fifth season aired, and hadn't taken into account yet the tremendous recent character development of Ivar. I definitely have to make some alterations to my plotline. He is so complex at this point in the story- am excited to begin writing him. And Adhara Snow, thank you! Pleasee keep reading and providing feedback. (:**

 **Thank you all again, and enjoy!**

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Lydia could not believe her eyes. After all the anticipation, all of the wondering, and all of the preparation she underwent to look as proper, clean and unscathed as possible, she was face to face with a panel of dirty, bruised, disheveled heathens. The guests of Mercia were none other than the Northmen who King Aethelwulf was working tirelessly to eradicate from their region. Of course, her father would be seeking an alliance with them behind the King's back…

Lydia wore a formal gown that sparkled of silver and gold threading. Her long hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, the top half pulled back with a variety of tastefully jeweled pins and clips. The men spoke for a long while, Lydia too shocked to truly engage in the conversation. Her father wanted the Northmen troops to support him in his quest to overthrow King Aethelwulf and rule England. In turn, he would offer them York and a large bit of unhabituated land to begin a farming colony. To sweeten the deal and seal their alliance, he would also offer one of the sons of Ragnar his sweet daughter's hand in marriage. At this statement, Lydia's jaw clenched. She had been gazing at the floor blankly, but now she stared daggers at the barbarian who seemed to be the leader of the bunch. Most of his head was shaved, with the brown hair on the top of his head forming one long braid down his back. He was tanned, and bearded, and like the rest of them, had the looks of a rugged warrior. His blue eyes pierced into hers, sending icy shivers down her spine. Lydia attempted to not acknowledge the handsomeness of the man, and was successfully unaffected by his apparent indifference towards her. He spoke to the translator, seeming somewhat amused at Lydia's disdain.

"The princess does not seem very happy about this exchange." The translator explained in their language.

"She will learn to be happy with it, don't you worry." King Aelfric retorted, a bit of harshness directed towards Lydia. "She is an excellent homemaker, and at a perfect age for bearing children." Lydia wanted to vomit. Next, it was not the leader who responded, but a thinner, younger man to his right. He also had long brown hair, but it was worn in a few loose braids. He was beautiful, as well, and he smiled softly at Lydia. She assumed that the two men before her were sons of Ragnar. She tried to remember their names from the stories, but she could only remember the name of the cripple, Ivar the Boneless, who was nowhere in sight.

"She is quite pretty, too." The translator spoke for the mischievous looking younger Northman, breaking Lydia's train of thought. His words caught her off guard, and made her wonder when the last time was that she had been called pretty. Suddenly then she remembered, and was overwhelmed with sadness- it felt like a lifetime ago. Her father nudged her sharply.

"Thank you." She whispered quickly, glancing at the younger man. He looked confused at her reaction. With this, King Aelfric continued to talk business, and Lydia went back to staring at her shoes under the table. What was in store for her? What would her life become once she was handed over to these men? She had heard stories of their ventures in York- they were cruel and ruthless, murdering and pillaging and raping. What would they do to her? Would they torture her for fun? Would they pass her around their troops after every victory? Or would they just kill her after she bore them a few heirs? Her mind wondered wildly, and she hoped that whatever happened, it was not as bad as what she was imagining in this moment. She sent God a prayer, though as of recently, her faith in God waivered. What kind of almighty being would allow her to suffer so?

Ultimately, the Northmen agreed that they would consider the offer that night, and come back in the morning with a response. Lydia exhaled, feeling that though it seemed that her fate was sealed, at least she had a night to pretend like she may be granted another chance. The warriors agreed to be shown around the grounds by the King while the hall was prepared for dinner, which they would attend, as well. Lydia knew the drill- King Aelfric would take them to the most scenic views of the surrounding land by taking them to the highest towers, showcasing the power and wealth of the kingdom to entice his potential allies. He would not take them to the town where people were sick and dying in small huts just outside of his castle walls.

The men had left the hall, leaving her alone with her two brothers. It did not take them long to realize that this was the most vulnerable Lydia had been in a long while- and they wished to take advantage of this opportunity to torment her.

"So what did you think of your suitors, sweet Lydia?" Brunwulf taunted. "Seem like the honorable, heroic men of God you'd always imagine you'd end up marrying?"

"Stop it…" Lydia said quietly, but sternly.

"I think that younger one liked you… _Hvitserk_ was his name, I believe." Brunwulf smiled. "I bet he's already imagining what he'll do to you on your wedding night."

"You're disgusting."

"And what do you think they'll do to her when she misbehaves, Ulfberht?" Her brother ignored her.

"If they're any bit as merciless as I've heard, I think Lydia is in for a _very_ rough life."

"I am tortured every day of my life having to be _your_ sister." Lydia snapped. "I can't imagine they could do anything worse to me."

"See, that is where you're wrong, sister." Ulfberht kneeled down beside her chair, now face to face with her. "You thought you were miserable with us? They're _barbarians._ " She blinked, feeling like she was losing her breath. "They killed a priest just a few towns over by pouring hot metal into his mouth while he was still alive. Did you know that?" Lydia felt in this moment like she may truly get sick.

"Did you know that your breath is so putrid that it could kill a horse?" She responded with what energy she had left.

"You bitch…" He pulled his hand back to smack her across the face, but his brother stopped him.

"Ulf, father will not be happy if she is bruised up before dinner." Ulfberht looked at Lydia, who remained stone-like and unaffected by his physical threats, but he reluctantly lowered his arm. A thought then seemed to occur to him.

"Well what if we punish her where her bruises cannot be seen?" The younger brother offered. Brunwulf smiled, and pretended to contemplate the idea for a moment.

"I think you may be onto something, brother." He gazed down at her. "As long as she is back to her room in time for the servants to freshen her up…"

Lydia was on the verge of snapping. In her mind, she felt she had nothing to live for. All hopes of being married off to a kinder gentleman who may provide her with the opportunity to have a loving family and adventurous life were nearly gone. She could not remember her reasons for not fighting back against these evil boys, other than that it seemed she could never win. She remembered somewhat how to defend herself from the lessons she'd been given long ago- a lifetime ago. Her mind worked quickly to resurface those skills before her brothers were on her.

 **...**

Hvitserk only half listened to the King as he described his coming to power in Mercia, and the most valuable goods and trades of the kingdom. His mind wandered to the sad eyes of the beautiful girl he had met minutes ago- Princess Lydia. She was very beautiful, but he knew she would not be happy to be married to any of them. Even still, he hoped he would get the chance to show her that he could make her happy, if she would let him.

And then his mind wandered to Margarethe. What would become of their relationship if he were to be married? He cared deeply for her, but there was no future with her being married to his brother. She could never bear him children; how could he possibly know if it was his child, anyways? And now that the idea of having children of his own was dangled in front of him, he found it much more important than he had previously. It only makes sense that he should have sons and heirs, as powerful as he could feel himself and his brothers becoming. But again, now that he could potentially be married to a lovely woman, she may despise him for it. And she was a _Christian._ He did not feel that Ivar would take kindly to a Christian woman being married into their family. Though she did not seem like the somewhat weak-willed Christian women they had come upon before- there was fire in her. The thought of that first look that she had given Ubbe, so full of spite and reluctance, made Hvitserk unquestionably hot. She was even more beautiful when she seemed angry.

The group of men were making their way through the castle towards a courtyard when he heard a scuffling sound down a hallway to his right. To his surprise, he turned to see the princess, rushing down the hallway away from him. He seemed to be the only one who noticed her, and at first, he was rather amused. His smirk fell quickly when he saw her two brothers turn a corner, chasing after her malevolently. As he watched the scene unfold, unsure of what to do, his blood began to boil. She desperately tried to open a door that was apparently locked, and this gave her brothers enough time to catch up to her. She was thrown backwards against the door when she threw a quick, skilled punch at the older of the two brothers. He barely dodged it before he delivered a blow to her stomach. Hvitserk was in shock- what right does this man have to strike a princess? His own _sister_? As the girl fell to the ground, the other brother kicked her in the ribs and spat on her. While none of the other men surrounding Hvitserk had seen what was happening, and the young Viking wasn't sure of his place in this matter, he couldn't stand idle any longer.

 **...**

Lydia clutched her ribs, proud of her efforts to fight the two men off, but disappointed that it was going to end this way. She had managed to land a number of solid hits to both men, and had also kneed Brunwulf painfully in the groin during their tussle in the dining hall, but now Ulfberht straddled her, clutching her throat just firmly enough so that she could hardly breath. He lowered his face so that it was inches away from hers.

"If you weren't being bartered off to those barbarians, you would be dead." He said coldly. Lydia's eyesight went blurry and tears formed in her eyes- she needed to breath. Her brother's anger was blinding him to the fact that he may actually be killing her. She started to see black, but he continued. "The only reason you're alive now is because we know that once they get their hands on you, you're going to-"

His words were cut short as he was heaved off of Lydia. She gasped for air, simultaneously clutching her ribs in pain and rolling over on her side. She closed her eyes, catching her breath, unaware of what was happening around her. She felt faint- she felt like she might pass out there, on the unwelcoming ground, in the middle of the castle from pure mental and physical exhaustion. She was pulled out of her haze by a voice- a strange, foreign voice.

"Princess." She strained her eyes to realize a figure hovered above her- a man. "Princess Lydia." The words sounded strange and improper coming from his mouth. As she attempted to sit up, she clutched her ribs and he held her arm, helping to position her without causing her too much strain. She began to see clearly again, looking curiously at the hand that offered her assistance, then taking in his face and body. He was the younger of the Northmen from the meeting- the one who had called her pretty. _Hvitserk._ He looked at her with concern, questioning if she was okay with his eyes. Lydia wasn't sure how to react- what was happening? She glanced around him, spotting both of her brothers groaning on the ground behind him. This man had defended her… He may have possibly just saved her life. "Princess?" He repeated.

Lydia smiled nervously. "Yes, I'm fine." Hvitserk nodded, relieved, seeming able to read her tone and body language, but it was apparent that he did not understand her language. He must have just remembered what her father had called her from their earlier gathering. Though admittedly, he butchered the pronunciation. He slowly helped her up to stand, and surprisingly, she felt much better than she thought she would. Something about seeing her brothers moaning in pain made her injuries hurt much less, that was for sure. She looked Hvitserk in the eyes- while she was used to being quite tall compared to most of her family and the servants, he towered over her. She clasped his hands in hers and whispered, "Thank you." He looked at her questioningly. Perhaps he couldn't read her tone this time, or perhaps he wasn't sure why she was so touched at the fact that someone had actually protested to her battery.

"How _dare_ you." Brunwulf, finally able to steady himself enough to stand, was glaring at Hvitserk with hatred. "How dare you attack the sons of the King to defend this snarky, ungrateful little _slut_." Lydia rolled her eyes, but Hvitserk stood in front of her defensively, anyways. His weapons had been taken from him when he'd entered the castle, but he was still clearly the better of the fighters between the three men. He was obviously stronger, obviously more experienced. While Brunwulf and Ulfberht wanted to argue further, they seemed to know they couldn't do so physically without getting beaten again. "Wait until father hears about this…" The prince muttered.

"If you tell father, you only jeopardize his chances at sealing this alliance and overthrowing King Aethelwulf." Lydia blurted hurriedly. Her brothers exchanged looks, and then looked back to her, silent. Hvitserk eyed her curiously, wondering what she'd said to the boys to cause them such apparent conflict. "You know no other armies in England will fight with father to overthrow the King. These men are his only chance, therefore your only chance, at this rulership. He would lament you forever if you cost him this opportunity." After another few moments of quiet contemplation, her brothers hesitantly nodded to each other, then turned to leave.

"You tell him," Ulfberht pointed at Hvitserk angrily, "that if he attacks us again, we will kill him and all of his heathen Northmen friends. We will not so strongly respect this alliance in the future." Lydia nodded as the boys sauntered off, leaving her alone with Hvitserk. To her surprise, the Northman began to laugh when her brothers were out of sight. He seemed amused that they so quickly left the fight with their heads hung and tails between their legs. She wondered about this man… why had he helped her? He could have put himself and his fellow warriors in danger. He had only just met her, anyways. She took a moment to look at him closer than she had earlier that day. His eyes were a stunning blue, his facial features soft, his hair an attractive mess. He had a wonderful smile, and a kid-like quality to him that was balanced with a musky masculinity and apparent strength. Lydia wondered if this would be the man to whom she would be married soon.

He turned back to her, and she was suddenly nervous at the idea. Regardless of his looks, or his chivalry, she did not really know him or what he was capable of. These men were supposed to be terrifying and evil. How many Christians had this man killed, alone? And in a number of days, they could possibly be betrothed? Lydia's heart began to race, and she was unsure of her feelings. She had an overwhelming gratitude towards this man, but had to remind herself to be cautious.

"Hvitserk!" The two turned their heads toward who was shouting- the assumed older brother of Hvitserk.

"Ubbe." The younger of the two responded. They exchanged words briefly, Hvitserk smiled, and the turned to make his way back to his brother, and back to the King and his small tour group. Before he was out of Lydia's reach, he turned to her, took her hand gently, and brought it to his lips, smirking a bit playfully. He gave her one final bow before walking back towards his brother. Lydia took in his long strides, his abnormal height, his broad shoulders and muscular physique. Maybe there was a chance that this marriage arrangement would not be the death of her, after all.

But she tried not to allow herself hope. It seemed like the more hopeful she was, the greater the misery she was met with.

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 **Thank you all for reading! Please leave a quick review if you can manage. (: Something I'm interested in knowing, what do you guys all think of Hvitserk? Personally, I feel he is so commonly underestimated and I just** ** _love_** **him as a character in Vikings. Perhaps one of the most thoughtful, but seriously lethal, Vikings. Is it just me? If so, that's okay. (:**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own the show Vikings or many of the preexisting characters, including Hvitserk, Ubbe and Ivar. I own my OC, Lydia, as well as her family.**

 **THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH for the follows, favorites, etc. I am so excited this story is getting so much attention! Sorry I'm not updating super often- things on my end have been crazy with school, work, etc. And these things seem to be making me write terribly. Regardless, thank you all so much for your response to my Hvitserk inquiry- glad to know I'm not the only one wondering when he's going to get his time to shine! And while I'm not incorporating Season 5 into this fic, OMG did you guys see the season finale!? Ugh I LOVE the character development! And I could never get enough shots of Hvitserk in battle…**

 **Sorry, time to focus... ANYWHO… Special shout out to *drumroll* KingofTruands and Little Indulgence! I'm a fan of Lydia so far, as well! (: I am really looking forward to exposing more of her backstory in future chapters. And especially the development of her relationship with Ivar!**

 **All of you lovely folks, please keep reading and providing feedback. You rock. As always, thank you all SO much… and enjoy! (:**

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Dinner was relatively uneventful. Lydia felt lost and dazed from the day's previous events. She tried to keep her eyes away from both of her brothers as well as Hvitserk, worrying that an exchange of glances could tip the King off as to what had happened. She still felt uneasy at the fact that she'd been defended earlier- she should be happy and flattered, but she worried that the moment she found a positive side to this arrangement, something would fall through and her disappointment would only be greater. She kept her gaze down at her plate, and tried to contain her thoughts.

She finally met Hvitserk's gaze as the Northmen stood to leave. The corners of his mouth drew up slightly, but he was also keeping his expressions subtle. He nodded to her, then to the King, and before Lydia knew it, she was being escorted to her room by a guard. She readied herself for bed, wondering what the morning would bring. In less than 24 hours, her life as she knew it could take a sharp turn in a new direction. She hoped that direction would be better than her current situation.

She drifted off imagining what Hvitserk had done to disarm her brothers while she was on the ground seeing stars earlier that day… She imagined what strength he must have. Then she thought that, considering her current situation, logically, whatever was in store for her _had_ to be better than this.

 **…**

Ubbe glanced around the tent as his brothers argued about the proposed arrangement with the Saxons.

"You would like to welcome a _Christian_ woman into our family?"

"It is not just about that, Ivar." Hvitserk pushed back. "This alliance would be good for us, especially for your aspirations. And it's not like _you_ have to marry her."

"You are just turning your eye to the fact that she is Christian because you want her in your bed." Ivar quipped.

"Yes, I want to have children." Hvitserk admitted. "But this arrangement is beneficial for more than one reason. How would you like to have an entire army of Saxons on your side for when you seek vengeance upon Lagertha?" Ubbe cleared his throat and Hvitserk glanced his way. " _And_ we would be allowing ourselves the opportunity to settle and farm here. This is a good thing for all of us." The tent got silent for a moment.

"So you would want to be the one to marry her, Hvitserk?" Ubbe spoke for the first time in a long while.

"Well Ivar does not want to." He shrugged. "I do not think Margarethe would be happy if you were to take another wife." Ubbe thought back to the former slave who he'd married just before their attack on York.

"And she will be happy if _you_ return married?" Ubbe asked. Hvitserk contemplated Margarethe's potential jealousy.

"It does not matter." He decided. "I am not married to her. You are."

"Well she did not mind sharing herself outside of our marriage. Perhaps she will not mind if I share myself, as well." Now Ubbe was only challenging Hvitserk's assuredness. Ivar scoffed.

"So now you two will fight over who gets to marry the disgusting Saxon girl? I do not understand."

"We are not fighting." Ubbe said calmly. "Just discussing our options."

"And why would her marrying you be an option, when you already have a woman to bear you children in Kattegat?" Hvitserk asked. Ubbe had no response. He did not know why he'd offered this idea. Perhaps only because Hvitserk had been annoying him.

"You are right, brother." Ubbe sighed. "If we decide to accept this alliance, it will be you who marries the princess." At this, Hvitserk smiled.

" _If_ we decide to accept this alliance." Ivar stated.

"If you can give one reason why it is not the smart thing to do, we can discuss an alternative." Ubbe responded, giving Ivar the grounds to protest. Ivar looked like he was going to say something, but seemed to take his words back, and stopped. The tent was silent again, this time for longer.

"Then it is settled." Hvitserk concluded. Ivar tensed his jaw.

"It is settled, but I do not like it." Ivar muttered.

"You will like it when we are granted our lands and armies after defeating King Aethelwulf." Hvitserk clapped him on the back. "This is the right decision."

While Ubbe knew Hvitserk was right, he had not gotten the best feeling today from the King. Something seemed off about their offer. Ivar's cautious attitude resonated in Ubbe, as well. But if they were able to seal this agreement and gain a larger army, and land to farm, then he would ignore these feelings for now. He could also read Hvitserk's eagerness for the princess, though the younger Ragnarsson was trying to hide it. For some reason, it bothered Ubbe.

Truthfully, he missed Kattegat and Margarethe. He wondered what she was doing in his absence- he wished now that he had brought her along. But she was safer in Kattegat, especially under Lagertha's reign. As the nights here got colder, he would miss her presence in his bed even more.

For Ivar, the conversation had not only led to a greater suspicion against the Saxon kingdom, but also a curiosity about this princess his brothers had been discussing. What about her could have had Ubbe considering taking another wife? Why was Hvitserk so ready to accept the deal? There must have been something about this girl that had intrigued the both of them. But what could be so intriguing about a Saxon?

 **…**

The next morning, the Northmen had sent a messenger to accept the King's offer. Lydia felt frozen when she heard the news- just one more night, and she would be married to Hvitserk. She would be beginning a new life with a Northman leader and his people. In a matter of days, everything she thought she knew would change.

"Lydia, why don't you go to their camp to thank them for graciously accepting our offer?" Her head turned nervously to her father.

"You want me to go to their camp… by myself?"

"Of course not." He snapped at her impatiently. "I will send you with my guards. I think it would be good for you to talk with them before the wedding, and communicate our appreciation for their civility." The thought of visiting the Northmen on their own turf made Lydia nervous, but she supposed she would have to get used to it, eventually. Soon, their turf would be hers, as well. "Do you have a problem with that?" King Aelfric prompted, pulling her from her thoughts.

"Of course not, father." Lydia said softly. She was taken to be prepared to visit the Sons. Her hair was twisted back just enough so that her dark locks fell in long, neat waves down her back. The dark brown-colored dress she was given was lighter, a bit more casual than what she'd worn the day before. This would be better for walking about a campground and riding a horse. Nonetheless, she looked beautiful. Soon she was escorted to the courtyard, where the guards assigned to bring her to the Northmen were waiting for her. She grimaced when she saw who it was that would be standing over her shoulder all day.

Not only was Brunwulf dressed to guard her, but quite possibly her least favorite man in Mercia, Sir Eadstan. Why was the chief of Mercia's army coming to babysit her, anyways? But the reason for his presence mattered to her less than the fact itself. She couldn't look at the man without trembling with fury- she would never forget what he'd done to her… what he'd taken from her.

"You look lovely." Sir Eadstan approached her as she readied herself to mount her assigned horse. The man was handsome, with a chiseled jawline and specks of grey trickling throughout his neatly trimmed beard and hair. But when Lydia saw his face, all she could see was a ruthless, unreasonable murderer. "Allow me to help you…" He smoothly offered to hoist Lydia onto her horse, but she immediately stiffened.

"I'm fine, thank you." She said sternly, hoping he would not push the matter in front of the other guards.

"Please, I insist." He spoke with a chivalry and formality that was feigned. Lydia did not speak as he wrapped his large hands around her waist and hoisted her into her saddle. He ran his fingers subtly down her leg as he pulled his hand back, looking up at her innocently.

She swallowed and shivered, suddenly feeling nauseous. For some reason, she looked forward to arriving at the camp. She looked forward to seeing Hvitserk. She smirked to herself, imagining what Hvitserk would have done if he'd seen the Chief touching her against her will. He might just snap Eadstan's hand right off… But now she was getting ahead of herself. After all, she did not really know her soon-to-be husband. She should not allow herself to have such hopes or expectations.

They arrived after a short ride through the forest outside the city walls. The camp was muddy and smelly. The Northmen warriors eyed the Saxon horses and garment with suspicion as they made their way to the largest tent. Ubbe stood outside, surprised by their arrival, and even more so when he spotted the princess. He poked his head into the tent, shouting a few words briefly before walking towards the oncoming guards- and Lydia. Their translator rushed outside, and following him slowly was a taller, dark-haired man on crutches.

 _That must be him- Ivar the Boneless._ Lydia found herself nervous. He was so… _young._ Even younger than Hvitserk.

And _handsome._

"To what do we owe this visit?" The translator spoke for Ubbe.

"King Aelfric wanted to express his greatest appreciation of your alliance. He thought Princess Lydia should visit before the wedding day to express her gratefulness, as well." Upon hearing this, Ubbe smirked and looked at Lydia. She smiled half-heartedly and nodded in confirmation. The tall prince just laughed. The idea that the princess would express genuine gratitude for her forced marriage seemed obviously amusing to him. She glanced over to the younger prince, Ivar, and he said nothing. Expressed nothing. He only stared at her intimidatingly, judging her, with his stunningly bright blue eyes. He looked for something in hers, as well. Though she felt she should be afraid, she was mesmerized by him. His disability did not affect her opinion in the least… it was his stare that truly held her. His intensity wasn't just appealing because of his bone structure- it was something she could _feel_ radiating from him. Something that she wanted- a strength about him.

She finally looked back to Ubbe. "Well, we look forward to this alliance, as well." Ubbe said as he chuckled. "You are welcome to spend your day with us if you'd like. Hvitserk will be glad to see you." Lydia blushed, trying to hide a smile- she noticed Ivar cock his head at her and smirk. She felt embarrassed immediately, and disappointed in herself that she had taken to Hvitserk so quickly and unwillingly. Should she not still exercise caution? Should she not feel disgust towards the man who was agreeing to this arrangement in which she was merely an exchange of goods? But all she wanted for some reason was to get to know these men better, and to start her inevitable future on the best terms for herself that she could manage.

"Perhaps…" Lydia began to speak, "I could be taught your language." Brunwulf and Sir Eadstan snapped their gazes towards her- inside castle walls, she was not typically permitted to offer suggestions so boldly. Her father would have been appalled. Ubbe just shrugged, though surprised to hear her voice for the first time.

"Of course, Princess. Ivar here actually knows your language, as well. Let us have a drink inside, and we can talk." Ubbe gestured towards their temporary dwelling. Lydia couldn't help but feel relieved… she was even eager to enter with them. She slid off her horse smoothly, and Sir Eadstan followed closely behind her. After Ubbe had entered the tent in front of them, Eadstan clutched Lydia's arm roughly and pulled her back to whisper in her ear.

"Don't forget your place here, _my lady_." He emphasized the last two words sarcastically. Lydia pulled out of his grasp, glaring at him, trying to contain her anger, but she chose to say nothing. This man knew nothing of what her place here would be- but there was no use in arguing with him. Knowing herself, one snide remark would result in a never-ending tirade of hatred anyways, and this was not the time nor the place. Not that there would ever be an appropriate setting for her to express her anger towards the man.

As Lydia turned to move away from Eadstan, shaking, she nearly ran into Ivar, who was holding the cloth of the dwelling back for the Saxons to enter; he had seen, and heard, their less-than-friendly exchange. He glanced curiously between the princess and the guard, motioning towards the inside of the tent to prompt them to continue walking. Lydia nodded at him and continued on her way.

Once inside, she took a seat on a log beside Ubbe, who offered her a cup of ale. She accepted the beverage graciously, noticing that Eadstan was standing just a few feet behind her, arms crossed, inspecting the area.

"Do your people not trust us alone with you?" Ivar spoke for the first time. Lydia enjoyed his voice, and his accent. It was strange, foreign and… gruff. Manly. The way the words rolled off his tongue was exciting. "That is strange, given that you are being married to one of us in just one day."

"We are only here for her own comfort." Eadstan responded sharply.

"So then surely, if she desired to be left alone, you would obey? She is royalty, is she not?" Ivar challenged arrogantly. Eadstan remained silent, but looked at Lydia in a way that made her understand she should not allow the idea of her own privacy progress any further. At least, not unless she wanted to pay for it on her last night in Mercia.

"He is fine." Lydia assured Ivar, though she was not sure how convincing she was. She felt nothing but fury towards the guard, but she saw no point in jeopardizing her safety on her last night spent in the castle.

"If you say so…" Ivar trailed off, seeming to enjoy the irritation he'd provoked from Eadstan.

"So…" Lydia began. "What should I learn first? In your language." Ivar translated what she'd said for Ubbe, but then responded to her himself.

"Perhaps you should learn how to say 'I do'." Lydia's jaw tensed as she felt that the young man was challenging her in some way. He was testing her to see how she would react… but why?

"Well, perhaps I should." She responded confidently. Ivar only grinned.

Their conversation paused as Hvitserk barged into the tent, sweating and out of breath. He had apparently been training, as he carried a sword and his cheeks were flushed. He smiled when he saw Lydia.

"Princess." He bowed his head to her. She only looked at her feet, suddenly more nervous than she'd expected to be in his presence. It had just occurred to her that this man, who she was sitting only feet away from, would be her husband tomorrow. She would be vowing herself to him tomorrow, losing her virginity to him tomorrow...

"Why so quiet, now, princess?" Ivar bemused. She glared at him only for a quick second, then regained her stoic demeanor. Her nervousness melted away temporarily, if only to not let Ivar beat her. "Earlier today you looked so happy to see Hvitserk, and now you shy away."

"Why are you so concerned?" She replied smoothly, not breaking eye contact.

"Is my concern upsetting to you?" He continued to prompt her. "We will be family soon enough. Is it not normal for me to be concerned with the feelings of my future sister-in-law?"

"Normal is not something I am familiar with, so I suppose I would not know." She held his gaze, feeling that Ubbe and Hvitserk were both confused and wanting to know what they were saying. Ivar searched her face, looking for a fault. He scanned her features for something to dislike about her demeanor, or looking for a weakness. But she embodied strength and stubbornness, two qualities he had come to known well enough in himself. Hvitserk looked between the two of them, trying to understand what was going on. He hoped Ivar was not saying anything too malicious- he wanted to win Lydia over, and this task would be much more difficult if she were being constantly offended by his idiot brother. However, she did flinch or cower away from him. She only held his gaze to communicate that she would not be easily bested.

Ubbe barked orders at Ivar to continue on with teaching Lydia how to speak Norse. Eventually, the two of them let their guards down enough to begin, with Ivar offering common phrases in their language for her to copy. She was trying to not get frustrated with herself- she knew she sounded ridiculous. She caught Hvitserk and Ubbe trying not to laugh at her a number of times, but she could not better her pronunciation. She only hoped that she would improve with time. Eadstan never left the tent, but he stayed silent and Lydia almost forgot he was there after a while. When she was finally tired of attempting to speak broken and unsuccessful Norse, Ubbe refilled her cup of ale and the brothers conversed a bit among themselves. It was easy to tell that Ivar was teasing Hvitserk about something, but Hvitserk seemed to joke back long enough to get the better of his younger brother. The tall, long-haired Ragnarsson stood and clapped his defeated sibling on the back. Ubbe followed suit, standing and walking towards the tent entrance.

"They are going to spar by the river, so unless you would like to watch, you may wish to head back to your castle." Ivar spoke in a dull unemotional tone.

"I would like to watch." Lydia replied quickly, surprising Ivar and Eadstan. Ivar communicated with his brothers that Lydia would be joining them while they practiced, and Hvitserk responded with an impressed smile. He put his hand out for Lydia to take, and as she stood up she wrapped her fingers around his arm. She could not get herself to meet his gaze- at least, not yet. She was still too conscious of what was to happen between them the next day. She knew there should be a part of her that was much more afraid of her new arrangements, but she could not bring herself to fear for the most obvious reasons. Rather than fearing for her life or safety, she was only nervous for how she would come to know and live with someone who she didn't know, but who she was already tremendously intrigued by. She feared that the feelings she was receiving from him were false, and that her positive impression of these people would be incorrect, at her expense.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Princess Lydia?" Eadstan pressed. Hvitserk, sensing the guard's tone, turned his body towards Eadstan, pulling Lydia against him to imply dominance as her future husband.

"It will only be for a short while, Sir Eadstan." Lydia offered, her consideration of his concern far from genuine.

"I think the King would agree that a sparring match is no place for a lady." Lydia's keeper tried once more to convince her to change her mind. Ivar only laughed, then translated what Eadstan had said for his brothers. They, too, found what he'd said extremely amusing.

"With _all_ due respect, we would have to disagree." Ivar grinned, as did his brothers. Hvitserk pulled Lydia towards the entrance of their tent, deciding against standing to listen to the man who was attempting to restrain his future wife. Once they'd made their way to the clearing evidently designated for fighting practice, Hvitserk pressed his lips to Lydia's hands, just as he had the day before when he'd rescued her from her brothers. He smiled at her, and turned to point his sword at Ubbe. Lydia couldn't help but be thrilled as she watched the two hack at each other. They were both extremely quick, strong and agile. They were perhaps the most skilled fighters she'd ever seen- not that she'd seen much. Only every once in a while could she spy on the men practicing in her own castle courtyard while she was doing her chores. Hvitserk and Ubbe's fighting was even more incomparable to the brief self-defense lessons she'd received at one time, long ago. But that was all in the past.

An hour flew by in no time as she watched the men, laugh, fight and carry on. Hvitserk would often look to her for a reaction after he'd done something particularly impressive, and he was always pleased with what he saw. She was not smiling largely and obviously, but there was intrigue and admiration in her eyes as she watched the men practice their skills like sport. He thought that perhaps in the future, he could teach her how to fight, too.

Finally, Eadstan insisted that it was time for them to head back to the castle so the princess could be prepared for what was to come in the morning. She looked as though she wished to protest, but begrudgingly agreed to leave the camp. As the group made to leave the clearing, Hvitserk caught Lydia's hand and pulled her back behind the guards. She was unsure at first what his intentions were, as she spun to come face to face with him. His light eyes sparkled a bit, and just a hint of a smile shown on his worn face. But then she felt him press something into her palm, and she looked down to see a small dagger in his hand. She was confused, at first, glancing back up at him. But he only smiled, and gestured towards her, folding her fingers over the dagger and pushing it back into her chest. It seemed he offered this as a gift to her- a wedding present maybe? She took a closer look at the knife, and realized that it was actually quite stunning. This was not just some weapon he'd been using to practice, this was likely something either made for him, or given to him. It was extremely well-groomed, and _very_ sharp, which she could tell as she ran one of her fingers slowly along the blade. He searched her eyes for a reaction, but it took her a second to register the niceness and trust associated with the gesture. Once she did, she looked up at him and smiled thankfully, but also nervously. Before she knew what exactly she was feeling, she stood up on her toes and laid a soft kiss on his cheek. He only had a moment to beam at her in surprise before Eadstan's stern, unkind shout echoed through the woods.

"Princess Lydia, we _must_ head back to the castle at once." In a hurry, Lydia tucked the knife into the top of her dress, pointing the blade down and off to the side and hoping that the handle would catch on the synched middle of the dress to hold it in place. Hvitserk, momentarily caught off-guard, glanced away casually in an attempt to not stare intrusively down Lydia's dress, though he was tempted. While she knew that where the dagger was positioned would not be comfortable for the ride back to Mercia, it would be worth keeping Hvitserk's gift close to her, and if anyone she knew discovered it, they would surely take it from her. "Did you not hear me?" Sir Eadstan appeared behind her, huffing and ornery. He eyed the couple suspiciously, then wrapped his large hand around Lydia's upper arm to lead her back to the horses, saying only one word: "Come."

Her body went rigid at his touch, but she scuffled on in front of him, shooting an apologetic look towards Hvitserk. The young Viking had to control himself at the sight of the older man grabbing onto his future wife like she was a petulant, misbehaving child. His irritation was intensified by the fact that Lydia seemed so appalled by this man, and Hvitserk wondered what their past history entailed. But his anger was fleeting as he remembered what had just happened- she'd accepted a gift from him. She'd shown affection towards him. Perhaps winning her over wouldn't be all that difficult, after all.

 **…**

Later that evening, the Sons sat around a fire with a number of other warriors, on the outskirts of the camp, drinking and conversing about the King of Mercia and his daughter.

"She is attracted to you, brother." Ubbe said light-heartedly as he tossed a flask of ale towards his younger sibling. The men cheered as Hvitserk took a triumphant swig.

"And why wouldn't she be?" Hvitserk had been cockier than usual since Lydia had left the camp earlier. His confidence was, of course, also affected by his level of intoxication. It was annoying Ivar greatly.

"So just because she is good-looking, and because she likes you, you are willing to vow yourself to someone who worships a fake idol, and denies the existence of our gods?"

"Oh, stop it with this nonsense, Ivar." Ubbe had had enough with his brother's bitterness. "This alliance will be good for all of us and you know it. What have you got against the girl, anyways?"

"Christians are _not_ to be trusted. She will not understand our ways, even if she wants to, because she will never understand our gods."

"I get another feeling from her than you do, Ivar." Hvitserk drawled happily.

"We all know what feeling _you_ get from her." Ivar retorted, and Hvitserk only smiled.

"Regardless, perhaps Hvitserk is right." Ubbe shrugged. "She seems to want to learn our ways- maybe she will surprise us all."

Just as he finished his sentence, footsteps could be heard coming from down the trail leading to their camp. They were fast, loud and frantic. The men looked around at each other only for one confused moment, then they all found their weapons and stood in a defensive stance around the fire. Hvitserk held a sword and a shield, and Ivar had in his hand an axe, ready to haul at the oncoming intruder if need be. The crunching and rustling of leaves could be heard getting closer and closer, and nobody made a sound, waiting to see who it was that was so hurriedly making their way towards them. Ubbe squinted his eyes as a figure began to appear out of the dark. None of them were sure what to think as the person running into view became clearer and more apparent.

For before them now stood Lydia, out of breath, still wearing the same dress from earlier, but now painted from head to toe with blood. She clutched a dagger in her right hand so hard that her fingers were pale and white- Hvitserk immediately recognized it. Streaks running from her eyes and down her face through the smeared blood indicated she'd been crying at one point, but not now. Not anymore. She was only trembling with adrenaline, her eyes scanning the group of men until she saw Ivar sitting on a stump in the back, more confused than he'd ever been in his life. She finally spoke, shakily, breaking the eerie silence.

"They're coming."

* * *

 **Dun dun dunnnnnn. (; Thank you all for reading! Please leave a quick review if you can manage. No discussion topic for this chapter because... well, you'll see. (;**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own the show Vikings or many of the preexisting characters, including Hvitserk, Ubbe and Ivar. I own my OC, Lydia, as well as her family.**

 **YAY TWO CHAPTERS IN A ROW! I got on a roll this weekend but my internet was being weird and I couldn't upload my stuff so here's two huge long chapters at the same time! Hope this makes up for my writing drought!**

 **OH! Mature content ahead. Nonconsensual.. Be warned.**

* * *

Hvitserk dropped his sword and shield and immediately rushed to Lydia, examining her for injuries. None were apparent; the blood she was currently wearing was not hers. Then whose was it?

"What did she say, Ivar?" He asked urgently. Nobody had spoken since she had, every Viking just as confused as the one beside him. Ivar remained silent, taking in the sight of the woman. She was even more striking to him disheveled as she was. The green in her eyes glowed in the fire light, contrasting with the drying muddy red liquid glimmering on her cheek. "Ivar!" Hvitserk shouted even more impatiently. The youngest son of Ragnar blinked, making eye contact with his brother. "What. Did. She. Say."

"They're coming."

"What?" Hvitserk furrowed his brows.

"That is what she said- they are coming."

"Who is coming?" Ubbe asked. The others around the fire looked to Lydia as if she understood the question. Ivar translated, pressing her for more information.

"Prepare for battle- they're coming." Was all Lydia could manage. She seemed to be in shock, still shaking regardless of the fact that she stood so close to the flames. Hvitserk peeled off the fur he'd had draped around his shoulders and covered her with it.

"You all heard her- prepare for battle. Alert the camp." Hvitserk barked at everyone. Ubbe was surprised by his tone- it was not typical of his younger sibling to take such control of the army. Regardless, the men followed suit, rushing through the tents, grabbing weapons and shouting to the rest of the men to do the same. Somebody was coming.

"Ivar, come with me." Hvitserk demanded. "We will take the princess to our tent and find out what has happened." Ivar, still wrestling with his confusion and unsureness, stayed sitting for a moment as Hvitserk refused to wait for him and ushered Lydia across the camp. Ubbe looked down at Ivar, understanding the same feeling, but knowing that there was no time to hesitate.

"Go with them." Ubbe said with support. "I will ready the army. It will help us greatly to know what we are up against." Ivar nodded, then lowered himself to the ground and began to crawl. When Ivar entered the tent, Hvitserk was sitting on his bed next to Lydia, one hand holding a damp cloth, and one gripping her shoulder firmly.

"Are you hurt?" He asked loudly and slowly, seeming to be getting frustrated. When he saw Ivar, he sighed with relief. "It took you long enough. Please, ask her if she is hurt." Ivar did as he was asked, and the princess just looked at him, dazed.

"It does not matter if I am hurt, I am dead already." She said blankly. "You must prepare for battle. They are coming."

"Who is coming?" Ivar asked.

"The Mercian army." Ivar cocked his head.

"Why would the Mercian army be coming when we have agreed upon an alliance?"

"It was a trick- the whole thing was a trick." Hvitserk shouted at Ivar to tell him what she was saying, and he did hurriedly. Excluding the part about her being dead already. Lydia continued to speak quickly, her sentences rushed and confusing. "My father- he never intended to form an alliance. He only invited you all here and offered my hand so your guard would be down. They planned to attack tonight, when you were asleep…" She muttered, trailing off a bit. "When they realize that I'm gone… when they realize what I've done… they will come. Soon." Ivar's eyes widened as she spoke. He _knew_ it. He knew something was strange about this entire ordeal. He was always skeptical about trusting Christian leaders, but he had especially been wary of this one. He bared his teeth angrily- how _dare_ they take advantage of their generosity and agreement. Ubbe strode briskly into the tent as Ivar explained to Hvitserk what had happened. Now all three of them were seething with fury. Who did this King think he was? His army would be no match for the warriors of the Norse Great Army… though this may have been a different story entirely if the Mercians had actually managed to sneak into the Viking's camp while they slept. Now that they'd been warned, they would no doubt conquer King Aelfric's men. Hopefully they would not lose too many of their own.

Hvitserk stood, throwing the cloth he held across the tent in anger, making Lydia jump. He turned to her quickly. "How long have you known?!" He shouted in her direction. Her eyes welled with tears as she searched his face, trying to understand why he was screaming at her.

"Did you know?" Ivar clarified. She shook her head. "When did you find out?"

"T-tonight. Just a few hours ago." She stuttered, not taking her eyes away from Hvitserk's as a tear fell down her cheek.

"She says she did not know until tonight." Ivar said skeptically.

"Do you not believe her?" Ubbe asked.

"I do not know…" Ivar cocked his head at her.

"If she did know this was their plan all along, why would she be telling us now?" Ubbe offered in her defense. Hvitserk was unsure he believed her story, now. He was automatically defensive just considering the possibility that she had played games with him.

"It does not matter if you believe me." She said, looking down at Hvitserk's dagger, which she still clutched. "Like I said, I am dead anyways."

"And why is that?" Ivar asked impatiently.

"Eadstan…" she trailed off for a moment, then looked up at Ivar, a smile tugging at her lips. "I killed him."

 **…**

 **[TWO HOURS PRIOR]**

Lydia sat at the dinner table with the team of guards, Ulfberht and her father. Her moods were improved since seeing Hvitserk that afternoon; she was beginning to look forward to the wedding, and to their future.

"So, Sir Eadstan. What were their campgrounds like?" King Aelfric asked.

"Mostly secure, but Brunwulf believes he found a number of sites that are quite penetrable."

"Good work, son." He nodded towards Brunwulf.

"Penetrable?" Lydia asked. The men around her only smiled, making eye contact with each other, knowing they shard a secret. "Why is that important?" Her face fell as she began to understand what their words implied.

"Perhaps the princess should be taken to her room so we can finish our conversation." The King suggested. Hoping she was just misunderstanding, Lydia stood quickly.

" _Why_ are you scoping out the vulnerability of their camp?" She rephrased her question, afraid that she already knew the answer.

"Oh, my dear child. Did you honestly think I would allow you to marry that pagan mongrel?" He only patronized her. She began to feel faint, not at the idea of not being able to marry Hvitserk, but because she now feared that the men she'd spent the day with would not live to see morning. She could handle losing the hopes of living a long life with a man who she thought respected her- she did not know if she could live knowing that her father had slaughtered these men when they had expected a truce. He was such a slimy, treacherous man who would only ever bring pain to the people he lead and the people who trusted him.

"You gave your word… You agreed to be allies." She stammered.

"Yes, and now I will defeat the pagans and pledge my alliance to King Aethelwulf. And he will be eternally grateful, granting me more land and riches than I could have ever imagined." King Aelfric grinned widely, unaffected by his daughter's obvious disgust in him.

"You can't do this…"

"And why not? Because you're developed a little crush on a _boy_?" She shook her head in disbelief.

"Because it's _wrong._ " She answered sternly.

"You seem to forget what side you're on, you stupid little girl. Do you have any idea how many of your own people these men have killed?"

"But you said…"

" _Yes,_ I _said_ many things. But this is the right thing to do." Lydia stared in awe at the man before her. He had always been weak, and uncaring and unfeeling. He had _never_ cared about her and her siblings, or her mother. He only ever wanted power, and he'd moped when he didn't have it. Now that he was given the opportunity to become powerful, it consumed him and blinded him. He became this impatient, terrible, cruel man before her… He became a monster. "Besides," the King continued. "Your hand has _long_ been promised to Sir Eadstan." As if Lydia could not endure any more shock, she fell warily forwards and had to support herself on the table.

"HIM?!" She responded through gritted teeth. "How COULD you?!" She shouted, backing away from the table.

"Alright, Lydia, I think it's time for you to go." The King waved his hand at her dismissively. Before she could make to run out of the hall, she felt herself get lifted upwards, and was now tossed over Eadstan's shoulders.

"NO!" She screamed at the top of her lungs. "YOU CAN'T DO THIS!" Her chest ached, her stomach felt like it had dropped completely out of her body. Tears stung the rims of her eyes as she realized that everything she'd experienced hope for in the last day had been cruelly ripped out from under her. She clawed and kicked at him, but despite her rage, she felt sick and weak. Misery crept through her body and she wasn't sure she would be able to fight it anymore before it consumed the person that she was entirely. "PUT ME DOWN!" She cried out, her voice cracking. Eadstan only chuckled as he continued to carry her to her room.

When they finally arrived, Eadstan tossed her onto her bed like she weighed nothing. She immediately shot up, striking at his face and clawing at his eyes. He managed to pin her down quickly, though he was not pleased that she had managed to leave a sizeable scratch across his cheekbone.

"You're just a little bitch, aren't you?" He grimaced. "If we are to get married, my lady, you are going to have to learn to _behave_."

"I will NEVER marry you!" She cried, and again he only laughed.

"Oh, how I look forward to proving you wrong." He grabbed her wrists and pressed them against her chest, slamming her down against her bed again to discourage her from struggling. She winced in pain, but refused to let up. "You're going to have to calm down, or I will have to punish you as I see fit."

"FUCK you." Lydia yelled as she lurched forward, slamming her head into his. He toppled back, surprised for a moment, then gathered hit wits.

"Have it your way, then." He growled. She kicked her leg towards his stomach, but he caught her ankle, then used the momentum to flip her onto her stomach. He held her down by her back with one hand, and she heard the sound of ripping material. Eadstan used a section of her own sheets he'd pulled apart to tie her wrists together above her head, keeping his knee painfully pressing into her back. Once she was bound, he pulled her to the edge of the bed, so her feet now touched the ground. She realized how vulnerable she now was, bent over helplessly in front of her assailant. Her entire body seemed to ache- her head hurt tremendously from the blow she'd managed, her wrists were rubbing themselves raw against the unnecessarily tight bonds he'd placed upon her, and her ribs stung painfully as well. But… why were her ribs hurting?

Hvitserk's dagger. She had a _dagger_. In all the madness of what was occurring, she'd completely forgotten about the gift, still tucked into her dress. If she could just get to it… She was distracted then by the feeling of her skirts being lifted up her legs.

"I've always found you so incredibly beautiful, Lydia." Eadstan said slowly, a harsh desire in his voice. "And I know I should wait for our wedding night, but… I think you deserve to know _now_ exactly what you're in for." She struggled, but he had her feet held apart by his own legs, and soon the skirts of her dress were resting on her back, leaving her exposed. Tears streamed down her face in fear of what was about to happen. But she reeled in her thoughts, trying to think with clarity rather than out of panic. She began to shuffle her hands underneath her chest, wondering if he would be too distracted to notice her working the dagger out of her dress.

Eadstan ran his hand up her thigh, landing a light, defiant smack to her ass. He traced his fingers in circles, admiring Lydia's body just to excite himself. His hand then began to make its way to her center… She cringed, trying to focus on the task at hand, but it was difficult with him brushing her folds, threatening at any moment to enter her.

"I will say, I understand your dislike for me, dear Lydia." He said softly; his tone of voice sounded as though it should be speaking words of sweetness, but he knew he only spoke to bring pain. "I was sorry for what I had to do to your friend years ago." Lydia stopped moving, stopped squirming, and felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her at the mention of Eadstan's horrible deeds. "I know you cared for that boy… but he was _just_ a mere peasant- a farmer. He could have _never_ made you happy like I can." Lydia remained still, her memories rushing to her. She was overcome with sadness and grief- the same feelings that she'd known when her love had been taken away from her. Eadstan knew the effect he had on her, and while his fingers still ran lightly around her backside, he continued. "You really shouldn't have been sneaking around with him, you know. Didn't you _know_ what would happen to him if the King found out? Honestly, _you_ could have prevented the whole thing. But sweet, young Lydia said she was in _love_ with the poor fool." She knew what he was doing- he was hoping to break her. He hoped to destroy her spirit, to issue so much pain that she could no longer sustain the will to resist him. But he did _not_ know her, or her capabilities. What he thought was tearing her apart was doing exactly the opposite- she boiled with anger, regained herself and continued to shimmy the knife out from under her without him noticing. She was going to make him wish he'd never chosen _her_ to torture with his words.

"Well…" He sounded close to nearing the end of his dreadful speech. "I will admit, he was a strong young man. He hardly even begged, all the way up until I sliced him open." Lydia choked back a sob, focused on her mission. "But sweet Lydia, I _promise_ you, I am much stronger than you could ever imagine." Eadstan shoved two fingers into her opening from behind, and she gasped. Her center was not wet in the least bit, but his force against her body's resistance was rough enough to bury himself deep in her. The pain affected her concentration, and the pure intrusiveness of what he was doing to her. But she almost had the hilt in her hand. If she could just get him to flip her over…

He pumped his fingers into her roughly, hoping to elicit arousal but in this instance, he could not. He spat into her opening, providing just enough lubrication to continue the wretched act. She whimpered only slightly, and he found himself ready to continue on with his assault very soon.

"I know you want to bear my children, Lydia." She heard him begin to undo his garments now, freeing himself from his trousers. "How does it feel to submit to a real man?" She could almost feel him now, hovering behind her, erect.

"Wait!" She shouted. "Please…"

"And why should I not take you, right now, like this, to punish you for your resistance?"

"I…" She thought quickly and cleared her throat. "You're right, I'm sorry… please, Sir Eadstan. I'm so sorry." He paused, quiet for a moment. "I want you, but… I want to be able to see you. When you take me for the first time." Eadstan sighed, understanding that the girl was finally giving in to his wishes for her own sake.

"So you would like to look into my eyes as I deflower you?" Lydia held back the urge to gag.

"Yes… Please." She managed to say. He thought for a moment, rubbing both hands on her cheeks delicately, admiring his current view a bit more.

"I suppose I will allow it."

In one swift motion, he released his hold on her legs and flipped her over. He had no time to register her movements before he felt a sharp pain in his abdomen, and looked down to see the handle of a dagger protruding from his body. She glared into his face triumphantly.

"Go to hell, you son of a bitch." She said defiantly through her teeth, then pulled the dagger out of his torso to slash his neck violently with the weapon. Her face and dress were coated with his blood as it sprayed from his wound, but she didn't even flinch. She stared into his eyes as they went from pained, to surprised, to scared, and then finally lifeless. She savored the moment for as long as she felt was necessary and able, and then she stood up, heaving the body off of her, and devised a plan in her head to sneak out of the castle and warn the Northmen of the attack. She may already be sentenced to death, but the least she could do was make sure the men who cam to seek alliance did not get wrongfully murdered.

 **…**

 **[PRESENT]**

Ivar just blinked, then translated for his brothers. They all looked at each other, then back to the girl in slight disbelief. The tent was quiet for a moment.

"You do not have to believe me about that, either. But I will be killed for it, if they catch me." She went back to staring at her dagger as she fidgeted with it in her hands. "I thought that, if I was going to die anyways, I could at least keep them from following through with this injustice."

"Why did you kill him?"

"I had my reasons." Lydia's tone and expression instantly darkened, as if she were reliving the act. "And he attacked me for yelling at my father when I found out his plans."

"Why should we believe you?" Ivar intended for this to be the final question.

"It does not matter." She admitted. "Kill me, if you wish." She met his eyes, then her gaze darted up to Hvitserk. "For the record, I am sorry things did not go as planned." She gave him a soft smile before hanging her head, waiting to accept her fate. The brothers began to converse with one another in their own language.

"She says that the guard attacked her because she got angry at her father for wanting to attack us tonight, but I am not so sure she tells the truth." Ivar spoke suspiciously.

"And why not?" Ubbe challenged, seeming to be the most calm about the situation. "She is covered in blood, what do you propose happened? Do you think she lies?"

"I think she has killed somebody for her own reasons, and has run to us for protection against her father selfishly. I think she knows we are likely to take her in because of Hvitserk's attraction for her."

"I am not a fool, Ivar." Hvitserk spat back defensively. "I know there is a possibility that she lies."

"So what do we do about her?" Ivar asked. They all turned to look at the girl, her face now in her hands. Before they could decide, shouting erupted from the outskirts of the camp.

"They are here." Ubbe announced, all heads in the tent turning quickly towards the sound. "This will have to wait." The men grabbed their weapons and made to exit the tent. Hvitserk almost did not notice Lydia stand up and grab a spare sword lying on the ground next to his bed.

"No." He pointed to her. She understood what he gestured for, and frowned.

"This is my battle, too." She pushed. Hvitserk growled in frustration, paced towards her, ripped the weapon out of her hands and tossed it on the ground.

"NO." He repeated himself.

"If she wants to get herself killed, who are we to…" Ivar began to offer a remark, but was surprisingly cut off by Hvitserk.

"You- shut up. She will stay here, where she is safe, until we can sort all of this out." He turned to face Lydia once more, his face inches from hers. "NO!" He put his fingers lightly on her chin, trying to make her understand in any way he could. He did not want her to risk her life, especially if she had, in fact, just saved all of theirs.

And with that, the brothers exited the tent to join the army. Lydia huffed, dropping down to sit on the bed once more. She was _not_ a child, yet no matter where she was, she was being talked to like one. She had learned to fight at one time- the young farmer she'd been fond of had tried to teach her once before. She wasn't completely useless… And she was likely going to die, anyways. The Northmen had no reason to trust her.

She contemplated what she should do for a while, but it was when she could hear the battle dispersing throughout the grounds that she made up her mind. She would not hide away in here like a coward while her father's people committed his unjust violence. She picked up the sword that Hvitserk had taken from her, and a small shield by the entrance of the tent, and walked out into the chaos.

She went mostly unnoticed, unsure of what to do. She scanned the area, but each man was busy with one of their enemies. She moved along, and was finally recognized by one of Eadstan's men. As the soldier charged towards her, her heart began to race and she braced herself for impact, trying to find a weak spot in his armor. But to her surprise, as he was within a few feet of her, he was struck in the back by an arrow. Lydia searched the area for its shooter only to see Ubbe standing at least 30 yards away from her holding a bow. He gave her a disapproving look, then continued to fight the men in front of him. Lydia, rethinking her decision, considered making her way back to the tent. But then, she heard the shout of one of the Norse warriors- a women. She had been knocked to the ground, her weapon kicked away from her, and a Mercian soldier with his back to Lydia stood above the woman, ready to strike. Without thinking, the princess charged forwards, slashing his side with the sword she held, which she now noticed was on the heavy side for her. But her actions had done what they needed to do, and the soldier slowly fell to the ground, disabled. The warrior woman got off the ground, grabbed her weapon, nodded in confusion towards Lydia, and jumped back into battle.

"Well done, sister." She heard a familiar voice behind her, and whipped around. "You must be very proud of yourself, killing two of your own men tonight." Ulfberht currently circled her like prey, shaking his head at her in disappointment.

"None of these men ever fought for me. Nobody in that castle _ever_ fought for me when my own family was ensuring that my life was a living hell."

"You know you deserved every bit of what you got. And you're going to deserve this, too, you little slut." He lunged at her, and she blocked his blow with her shield. He was strong, but she was quicker than he was. He tried to push her to the ground, but she kept her footing, just keeping herself stable. As he reached back to strike again, she shoved her sword forward to stab him under his arm, but he deflected the effort just in time. "Impressive, Lydia. But you are _still_ no match for me." He clutched her outstretched arm, using his shoulder to bash Lydia in the face with her own shield. She wobbled for a second, and Ulfberht took the opportunity to punch her across the face with the hilt of his sword, then he clamped her shield under his arm and pulled it away from her. She fell to the ground, bouncing back just enough to sluggishly swing her sword at him, but he easily dodged the desperate attempt to defend herself. With one strong, solid whack, her sword went flying as her brother struck it with his own weapon, and she was completely vulnerable. He kicked her in the ribs, harder than he ever had before, because this time he intended to finish the battery with ending her pathetic life, once and for all. He bent down, grabbing her by the hair so she looked him in the eyes. "If it were up to me, I would take this time to make you _suffer_ more than you ever have. But given that we are in battle, I don't have that much time." He slammed the side of her face down into the dirt, the metallic taste of blood beginning to fill her mouth. "At least I can bring your head back to father. Yours, along with the head of that _dirty_ little crush of yours- he will pay for what he did to us, don't you worry."

Ulfberht stood back, bringing his sword above his head, ready to swing down across Lydia's neck. She laid on the ground, wanting to move, wanting to roll away, but with the last blow to her head, she couldn't communicate her want to run to the rest of her body. She laid limply, waiting for the final strike, staring off into the distance, knowing that this was how it was always going to end.

The sound of sputtering brought her back to attention, and she slowly- _very_ slowly, lifted herself up enough to gaze at her brother, who still stood, but had dropped his sword behind him. Blood spattered out of his mouth, and he fell on his knees. It was then that Lydia noticed the axe buried in the center of his chest. Lydia looked the direction that Ulfberht was facing to see Ivar on the ground, his arm still in the air as if he'd only released the weapon seconds ago. The princess wondered if the Viking had realized who he was saving, but she had no time to waste on those thoughts. She turned her attention to her dying brother.

It took every ounce of willpower and strength to hoist herself up to just sitting on her knees, but finally, she was at eye level with her putrid older brother. She stared into his pupils as he understood his fate.

"Do you remember when we were younger, Ulfberht? Maybe you don't but I do." She spoke softly, but with intention. "I never got along with Brunwulf, but you and I used to be close. I admired you, followed you around, I thought I wanted to be like you." A single tear fell down the side of her face. "And then you, like father, abandoned any single kind quality you had once we were deemed as royalty. You _tortured_ me, and beat me, every day. And I _know_ you were the one who told father about Graham." Lydia ran her fingers down his cheek as he tried to form words, but could only spew blood. "Perhaps you deserved worse than this, but I have suffered enough, and I promise you, I will keep this moment with me for as long as I shall live."

Lydia grabbed the handle of the axe, forcefully pulling it from her brother's chest. And without another word, using all the strength she had left in her, letting out a triumphant roar, she sunk the weapon deep into the side of his neck, showering herself with his blood, and putting at least some of her demons to rest.

As Ulfberht fell over lifelessly, she looked around her. The battle was won, and the Mercians were defeated. While a couple of soldiers still fought on, their fate was obvious. Lydia smiled to herself- she had done it. She had saved the Army from her father's wrong doing. She could rest now, peacefully, knowing that she'd done everything she could.

She glanced at her surroundings one more time, making eye contact with Ivar in her last moments of consciousness. Then, she let the darkness overcome her.

* * *

 **Ooooooh I LOVE this chapter! So excited for what is to come. What do you guys think of Hvitserk's attitude towards her in the tent? Warranted, sensible or a bit immature? And what about Ivar's little rescue there…? I thought he HATED Christians. What's going on?! And I wonder what Ubbe's thinking of Lydia... Please leave me some reviews!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own the show Vikings or many of the preexisting characters, including Hvitserk, Ubbe and Ivar. I own my OC, Lydia, as well as her family.**

 **I'm sorry I haven't been updating super often, but I absolutely intend to finish this story. You all are so amazing for your views, reviews, subscriptions, follows, favorites, etc. I am SO glad you're enjoying where this is heading. There are** ** _almost_** **too many amazing comments on the last chapter for individual shout outs! But alas, I will continue because I promised. Shout out to: Little Indulgence, awe I love how much you love Lydia! I think she's pretty great, if I do say so myself! (; Vorst, I do like the bit of dominance I'm giving Hvitserk in the story… I think he deserves some for sure. And Hello-The-Kitty, I LOVE Ivar too, but I'm so glad you like Lydia's development. It's difficult when you write a character so unlike yourself to create a realistic growth. YAY! Awesome comments. Good thoughts.**

 **Read. Enjoy. Review. Repeat. (: xoxox**

* * *

Ivar gazed at the exhausted, enraged Saxon woman as she brought his axe down upon the neck of her brother. He thought to himself how forcefully she had wielded his weapon, considering how malnourished she was. However, Ivar knew the strength that had killed the man, now limp in front of her, was fueled by rage and vengeance. He could hear it in her voice as he listened in on the gruesome exchange. He was also certain now that she had told the truth to them earlier; her brother had given it away when he was scolding her for her disloyalty to the King. Evidently, the princess had not been on the side of the Mercians- it was more like they had been holding her prisoner.

Lydia glanced around the camp, her eyes heavy, seeming pleased with the fact that the Northmen were overcoming her father's army. But she only had moments left before she would succumb to the extreme pain and dizziness that was apparent in her weary movements. She took her last few moments of mild alertness to gaze at Ivar- her rescuer. She seemed so unafraid of him, even as he slithered towards her like a strange, terrifying, bloody snake. She just smiled, then fell on her side, unconscious. As he quickly crawled towards her, he turned her head to him, searching for signs of life. She was still breathing; she would live.

The fighting was over, and the few final Mercian soldiers had fled to report the defeat to the king. The Vikings yelled in triumph, holding up their weapons. Hvitserk and Ubbe joined in on this celebration, but were soon preoccupied, wondering what to do with the woman who had warned them of the attack… _if_ she was still alive. When the two ran into each other soon after the battle, Ubbe told Hvitserk that he had seen her leave the tent after the battle had begun.

"Of _course_ she did." Hvitserk shook his head in frustration. "Perhaps she had a death wish." He tried to hide the disappointment in his voice. Part of him was hoping that her intentions with him had been pure, but he knew that people were not always as they seemed. Deceit was much more common than loyalty, it seemed.

Ubbe stayed quiet, silently supporting his brother. He'd certainly misplaced his trust in the past, but Ubbe had never gotten the feeling that Lydia was capable of the treachery that Ivar had suggested. She seemed very sure of herself, and certainly intelligent. But she did not seem so deceptive or manipulative. Her feelings for Hvitserk had certainly come off as genuine. The thought made Ubbe somewhat jealous, though he was unsure of why.

After a short while of searching, the two found Ivar on the ground next to Lydia, inspecting her to see if she was still alive.

"Is she dead?" Hvitserk tried to ask casually, though concern and hope was expressed through his tone.

"She lives." Ivar said.

"Is that…." Ubbe began to ask, but Ivar finished for him.

"Her brother?" He raised an eyebrow, looking up at the two other sons of Ragnar. "Why, yes, it is. She killed him." He gestured towards the familiar face of the dead body lying on the ground.

"How…?" Hvitserk began, but again, Ivar interjected.

"Well, I helped." He admitted. "I threw the axe, but she finished him. It was quite interesting to watch." He paused for a moment, then continued on. "She was telling the truth earlier. I could tell by what she said when she was fighting her brother."

"Really?" Ubbe asked, surprised that this had been realized during their battle. Ivar just nodded, his gaze now on Lydia's face.

"She was telling the truth." Hvitserk repeated, letting out a breath he did not know he had been holding.

"Well…" Ubbe rubbed his chin, considering their predicament. "Let's take her to the tent. We will figure out what to do with her tonight, and plan to go back to York tomorrow." The boys nodded in agreement, and Hvitserk stepped forwards to scoop Lydia into his arms. Ubbe told the army of their plans to leave when the sun came up, and met his brothers in the tent after the girl was laid down.

"We cannot leave her." Hvitserk immediately insisted. "She saved us all, and she does not deserve to be left here to die."

"I agree that she does not deserve to die, but have you thought this through, Hvitserk?" Ubbe asked, now concerned for his brother. "We no longer benefit from a marriage to her. If we grant her freedom, you do not know if she will still hold affection for you. She may not even want to come back with us." Hvitserk just paused, considering this idea once again, but he'd already made up his mind.

"It does not matter." He shook his head, looking down. "What she wants to do now is her own choice, but we must offer her the chance. She fought with us, and saved us. We owe her that much." Ubbe was impressed with his younger sibling's answer. While Hvitserk had always been sensible, when it came to women, he had not always been as restrained as one might hope. But now, he practiced an understanding and assuredness that was new to his personality.

"Ivar, surely you are opposed. What are you thinking?" Ubbe asked.

"I am not completely opposed." He said simply. Both Hvitserk and Ubbe stared at him in surprise, and shock.

"You are not?" Ubbe clarified. "What has changed?"

"I am not totally sure." Ivar tilted his head to the side in thought, looking at the depleted girl in Hvitserk's bed. "She is Saxon… but she is… different."

"Different how?" Hvitserk asked, feeling slightly uncomfortable at the way Ivar was eyeing Lydia.

"The way she fought, and killed… without hesitation. You did not see it. It just seemed so… Viking." Hvitserk glanced at the girl proudly, wearing a slight smile, even though he understood he now bore no claim to her. She was so still, and so beautiful. She had such a lovely, soft face, and her body was not only appealing because of its proportions, but there was something so elegant and graceful about her demeanor. She had such a subtle sturdiness to her, and certainly a degree of individuality that was refreshing and becoming. Her dark hair was striking compared to her soft, ivory skin; her face seemed even more beautifully pale under the painted, drying blood that was spotted across her features. Her breaths were deep, even and soothing.

"So, you think she will decide to be Viking?" Ubbe asked thoughtfully.

"I think she has already chosen." Hvitserk spoke in response to the question directed towards Ivar.

"And if we have the wrong impression of her, we can always get rid of her." Ivar offered, not wanting to appear uncharacteristically weak. He knew Hvitserk would tense up at this suggestion, but the possibility of disappointment was still a real one, and _someone_ should keep them grounded. Not that he cared that much… or did he?

 **…**

As Lydia slept, she was plagued with the memories of her last encounter with Eadstan. It felt that she was reliving the moment that he violated her over and over again… hearing his words as he taunted her about killing her dear Graham. She wished she could have been reliving the moments she'd shared with _him_ instead. The times the two of them would sneak off to the stables together, or the times they had talked of running away together… But as she dreamt, she was only immersed in the reality of what had happened the previous day. She heard Eadstan's final words, and her brother's, and while she did not enjoy the events that led up to both of their deaths, she was extremely pleased that she had been there to witness the light leaving their eyes.

Finally, she began to stir uncomfortably. Her eyes fluttered, and she immediately felt blinded by the light of the sun. She moved to bring an arm up to cover her face, but paused immediately due to the searing pain radiating from her side. She groaned, and instead stayed still and focused on opening her eyes to observe her surroundings. She was on the ground, laying only on some kind of fur blanket. She still wore the filthy dress from the day before, but was also coated in a large tunic and some sort of shawl. As the chilly morning air nipped at her face, she was appreciative for the warmth that somebody had felt the need to grant her. She slowly ran one of her hands up to her face, sure to not move the rest of her body if unnecessary, and felt that the previous day's blood and grime had been washed off.

The circumstances gave her nervous butterflies immediately- she hadn't expected to wake up at all, nevertheless to have been taken care of overnight. She was certain that she would either die of her wounds, or that the Vikings would have killed her when they found her. But as she slowly glanced around, she could see that she was on the outskirts of what used to be their camp site while the warriors loaded their supplies into the boats. The tent she'd visited the night before had been dissembled, as had most of the other dwellings. So they were leaving, probably back to York, immediately… And where would that leave her?

Lydia began to push herself up slowly, cringing at the pain she felt in her abdomen and head. She flinched as she ran one hand along the area that her brother had banged into the ground last night, realizing that the swelling was affecting her ability to open her right eye fully. She could only imagine how bruised and injured her body and face looked this morning, but she supposed it was better than being dead. Continuing to push herself off the ground, realizing she likely had a few fractured ribs, she jumped at a set of strong arms coming up from behind her, helping her to get to her feet. She was even more surprised to see that the arms belonged to Ubbe.

Reflexively, she shuffled away from his touch after gaining enough steadiness. She nodded at him nervously, uttering a "thank you", knowing that he wouldn't understand the words. He nodded back at her and the corner of his mouth pulled into a small smirk. Unsure of what to do, Lydia looked around the site, then back at the Viking in front of her. Her mind tried to find any of the words she'd practiced before with Ivar. Her memory was faltering slightly as she, for some reason, was just now noticing how handsome this man was, coming off as both powerful and playful, with his arms crossed leaning back as he stared at her expectantly.

"Boats?" She asked in their language. She knew she was butchering the word, but Ubbe tried his best not to laugh at her, and just nodded.

"York." Ubbe said simply, knowing she'd understand what that meant. She nodded, appreciative of the fact that he'd at least understood the first word she'd spoken. But how would she convey what it was she really wanted to ask? She hadn't imagined that she would live until the morning. Now that she had, were they going to leave her there? Was she still going to be made to marry Hvitserk?

"…Me?" She asked cautiously, pointing to her chest. Ubbe nodded, prompting her to continue. "Mercia?" She asked, pointing back towards the castle. "…or York?" And she pointed at the boats. Ubbe just smiled, and as she tried to determine the meaning behind the smile, her thoughts were interrupted by the voice behind her.

"That is up to you." Lydia jumped and turned having heard the familiar smooth voice speaking her primary language, immediately regretting how quickly she'd moved. She clutched her side and sucked in quickly, trying to recover so as to not look absolutely pathetic, but Ivar only smirked. "I bet today you are wishing you had stayed in the tent last night."

"No." Lydia answered without hesitation. "I am in pain, but I am satisfied knowing there is one less of my terrible family in this world." Ivar's smile faded as he silently admired the hatred Lydia voiced for her own family, and her lack of remorse for her brother's murder. "What do you mean it is up to me?"

"We have decided you are free to choose whether you would like to join us in York, or stay here." He pronounced each word very deliberately, eyeing her to gauge her reaction. Ubbe also walked to be beside Ivar, curious to see the girl make her choice.

"And if I come with you…" Her eyes wandered across the camp site, and her voice trailed off as she made eye contact with Hvitserk, who was hauling a large load of weapons into one of the boats. He hoisted the load over his shoulder and smiled at Lydia only for a moment, then took a breath, looked away and continued on with what he was doing. Witnessing the exchange of looks, Ubbe offered what he thought she was trying to ask.

"Hvitserk?" He wasn't sure why there seemed to be annoyance in his tone. Regardless, Lydia just nodded.

"If you decide to join us, you will not be betrothed to anyone unless you choose to be." Ivar offered. Lydia's eyes widened. "You will be a free woman."

"But…" Lydia's mind was racing. _Free._ She would be _free_.. She hadn't felt freedom in years. She hadn't known what it was like to not be told what to do in her life time. She could hardly comprehend what it would be like, to not live every day answering to somebody… not being forced to act a certain way. It took her a few moments to compose herself, and even then her eyes were brimmed with tears as she blurted out a simple, "Why?"

"Is it confusing that we are not acting like the brutal monsters you've heard stories about?" Ivar chided.

"I just… Why are you doing this for me? Why didn't you kill me?"

"Would you like us to?" Ivar asked sarcastically, smirking.

"No, but I…"

"Then are you coming with us?" Ivar cut her off, unwilling to offer her their reasons behind their kindness, demanding a response. Lydia paused for only a quick second before looking at him seriously and responding.

"Well… of course." Ivar nodded with a casual look of indifference.

"Okay, then it is settled. Gather your furs and make to the ships." Though Lydia was still reeling at the fact that her entire life had just turned upside down in a matter of moments, she couldn't help but realize how horribly uncomfortable she was due to the fact that everything she wore was coated in mud and blood. She shivered, and while part of her knew that she would have to begin asserting herself as a free woman, in the moment she still felt at the mercy of the Ragnarssons. She kept her voice unusually polite.

"Before I do, I hate to ask anything else of you…" She began. Ivar just cocked an eyebrow at her. "Is there anything else you could give me to wear?" Ivar rolled his eyes, but spat out a few words to Ubbe, then motioned for Lydia to follow him. He trudged skillfully in front of her, dragging himself with obvious strength and coordination. She was impressed at how quickly he was moving- it was difficult for her to keep up with every movement sending a small sting of pain up the right side of her body. Finally, he found what he'd been leading her to, which was a large sack near another side of the camp site rimmed with woods. He pulled himself on top of a log that was beside the sack and rustled through it momentarily, then pulled out a few pieces of clothing and tossed them at Lydia. She reflexively extended both arms to catch the items, then let out a sharp shriek as an intensifying pain not only radiated from her ribs, but also her head. She clutched her middle for a moment and steadied herself, looking up at Ivar who only wore an obviously feigned look of innocence.

"You should really try to take it easy, princess."

"Don't call me that." She said through gritted teeth as she regained her breath and picked up the pants she'd dropped on the ground.

"Then stop acting like one." He retorted.

"Is this how you treat all of your injured companions?"

"I would not call you a companion." Ivar began. "And I would treat anyone in this way if they received their injuries because they had poor fighting skills."

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't learn how to better bear a sword in the run from the castle to your camp ground. I suppose I was a bit preoccupied ensuring that you all didn't get slaughtered in your sleep." With that, Ivar remained quiet, torn between being angry and being impressed at her spirit. The two were quiet for a moment, before Lydia cleared her throat and shifted uncomfortably. "Thank you for the clothing. I suppose I should go off and change."

"And you believe you can do this alone?" Ivar asked mockingly. Lydia looked down as the pile of fabric she clutched, realizing that he was right- she could hardly lift her arm above her chest, let alone be able to undo the restraints of the dress she wore.

"And are you offering to help me?" She asked in an equally challenging tone.

"Are you disappointed it is not Hvitserk asking to undress you?" Her cheeks flushed slightly, but she refused to let him have the last word.

"I am disappointed that I am apparently cursed to forever be surrounded by arrogant, snarky men who find joy in my pain." With that, she stomped off towards the woods, deciding that she would rather break her ribs all over again than ask Ivar for help.

He watched as she sauntered off, contemplating the idea of just leaving her to fail alone. But something inside him motivated him to roll his eyes, huff and begrudgingly grab his crutches to make his way after her. She was arrogant for sure, and had far too much of an attitude for his usual liking. But something about her made him respect the fire she spewed. Part of how she'd addressed him made him feel like he deserved her anger, and he couldn't help but notice how lovely her features were when she was frustrated. Her nostrils flared, and her cheeks wore a soft pink color, emphasizing the flawlessness of her pale skin and the darkness of her messy curls. For some reason, he couldn't bring himself to be at mad at her as he was with most people who challenged him. Something about the way she bickered with him was annoying, but also endearing and amusing. His mind also frequently flashed back to the look on her face when she'd brought his own axe down on her brother- her rage and vengeance was incredibly appealing to Ivar.

When he found her in the woods, she was just about where he'd expected her to be- leaning against a tree, fighting desperate tears to get her arm over her head enough to undo the ties that were holding the back of her dress together. He watched in entertainment for a moment while she struggled, but as she exhaled and dropped her arm, letting out a frustrated growl, he moved forward and announced himself. She sighed and turned, frustratingly thankful that he had followed her. He pulled himself so he leaned against a tree beside her.

"I only need you to undo the ties and buttons. I will do the rest." She clarified.

"Do not worry, you will keep your precious Christian modesty." Ivar said with annoyance as she walked towards him. She glanced over him briefly, not noticing previously how large of a man he was. But now that he stood tall, she could tell his height matched his brothers, and his upper body was substantially more sizeable. His blue eyes seemed to cut through her gaze, even though she thought she'd been subtle. She slowly turned so her back was to him, and waited for him to begin to loosen her dress.

"You are not afraid of me." Ivar said, catching Lydia off guard. She shifted a bit, considering his statement and where it had come from.

"Should I be?" She asked.

"Of course you should be." Ivar shrugged as his fingers made contact with the ties and buttons at the top of her back. "I am curious though, as to why you are not. Most people who meet me are." Lydia thought about her response carefully, now also wondering why she'd never felt fear towards the young man.

"I admit that you are intimidating, but with what I've dealt with in my life, there is little now that really scares me." She admitted.

"Why does your family hate you so much?" He asked as he continued undoing her bindings. As his calloused fingertips brushed her skin, she shivered.

"I suppose they didn't like that I would never let them control me."

"Who is Graham?" Ivar asked quickly as he reached the last set of buttons, but as the words left his lips, Lydia pulled away from him in shock. She turned to look at him, clutching the front of her dress to her chest.

"How do you know that name?" She asked in confusion, hurt reading all over her expression.

"You said it to your brother before you killed him." He said coolly, maintaining his calm self-assured demeanor. "So, who is he?"

"He is none of your concern." Lydia snapped.

"I am just curious." Ivar met Lydia's glare, staring back with what seemed like kindness. Lydia was unsure of whether it was true, but it was one of the first times he did not seem to just be making fun of her. She took a deep breath, and let herself trust him. After all, she was about to embark on a strange journey with these men. And- currently- he was the only one who she could talk to in full sentences.

"Graham was a farmer in Mercia. He was one of my best friends, and he had been teaching me how to defend myself." She said as her eyes dropped to the ground. "My father found out, and had Sir Eadstan kill him in front of me."

"And did you love him?" Ivar asked seriously. No smile, no smirk.

"I did. We wanted to run away together to be married, but… we waited too long I suppose." Silence followed after Lydia's confession. Ivar responded in the only way he knew how.

"So he taught you how to defend yourself, and this is still what happened?" He gestured to her injuries.

"Go to Hell." She replied, actually relieved at the change in subject.

"I am far too great a warrior to end up in Hel, that I can assure you. Now get changed." He propped himself on his crutches again, and began making his way back to camp.

"Ivar?" Lydia called after him. He only turned to look at her before she continued. "I want to kill them. I want to kill my father, and my brother and I want to destroy their army." Ivar smiled and shook his head before turning to walk away.

"We will have to teach you to fight properly then, won't we?" He shouted back at her.

 **…**

It was evening time and the army were all distributed and nestled on their boats. Lydia was on the same one as Ubbe and Hvitserk, and was currently balled up at one end while Hvitserk slept a few rows away. Hvitserk had spent a while pointing to various objects on and off the boat, trying to teach Lydia more of their language. Ubbe had to admit that the chemistry between the two of them was obvious. Hvitserk was kind and patient with her, and his occasional smirks at her terrible attempt to mimic the words he spoke typically led to a playful exchange. Ubbe had even noticed that as Hvitserk would point to something on his side, Lydia would lean into him a bit closer than necessary to view what he was trying to show her. And even as Hvitserk spoke more words than she could understand, she seemed so interested and entranced by his voice. It was strange how comfortable the girl seemed to be with him, even after the young Viking had yelled at her the night before. But they all knew this act of aggression was only fueled by his desire for her to be safe. Ubbe was quite impressed by his brother's more assertive behavior.

Then Ubbe thought back to Margarethe, who still remained in Kattegat. It seemed like it had been a long time since they'd felt playful towards each other, and comfortable. He'd seen her this way a number of times with Hvitserk- perhaps it was just a quality he possessed. But a lingering feeling in Ubbe's gut made him think that she was only interested in the brothers because they were the Sons of Ragnar. Perhaps she only wanted to be shared so that both could favor her, in the event that one were to rise to power. She could just be doubling her chances to become Queen someday.

Ubbe tried to shake the thought. Regardless, she would be disappointed at Hvitserk's new interest in Lydia. But Ubbe could understand why Hvitserk was so taken by the Saxon girl. She was certainly attractive, and seemed to be strong, yet nurturing. She had a naturally rebellious nature to her. But as Ubbe gazed at the sleeping young woman in thought, he realized what really drew him to her were her soft qualities. The way she blushed at Hvitserk's name- she wished it was himself she blushed about instead. The way she only got angry when provoked, and otherwise seemed to have a will to do what was right. The way she'd escaped the King's clutches and immediately run to them to ensure that they would not fall victim to her own father's wrongdoing. The way when she breathed, her mouth lay only slightly open, and the wisps of her hair blowing in the wind and framing her face. For a girl coming from such an unfortunate situation, she seemed so calm and at peace.

The wind began to pick up, and even Ubbe could not bear it any longer. He fetched his furs and found a spot to nestle up to try to get some rest. He paused just before getting completely settled, noticing that Lydia's furs had been splashed and she shivered in her sleep. Her teeth chattered, and her lips were a dimmer hue of pink than they had been earlier. He was compelled to move towards her, telling himself that he was only motivated knowing that Hvitserk would be upset to find his new prospect cold, and dead, in the morning. As he approached her quietly, he removed the damp covering from her, replacing them with his own. He figured that he was more used to this terrain, and would be able to sleep fine with her furs even though they were not dry. Settling down just next to her, he leaned over her to make sure she was completely covered. Then finally, as he got settled and shut his eyes, he felt Lydia roll over in her sleep to lean against him. At first, he stayed still, making sure she would not wake easily. But as it was evident by her breathing that she was far from alert, he gave in and allowed himself to settle into her, turning just to feel her body pressing against his front. She nuzzled her head into his shoulder, and he brushed a few strands of hair from her face as he relaxed into the feeling, and drifted off into a slumber himself.

* * *

 **I'm hearing all you guys wanting a bit more Ivar and Ubbe… hopefully this chapter makes you happy! I just love all the brothers in their own ways. And after this chapter, I'm definitely picking up the pace a bit in regards to time and their uh… relationships. (; SO discussion question: How do you think the brothers will react realizing that there is something about Lydia that they are** ** _all_** **drawn to? How would you like to see that play out?**

 **Thank you all again! Xoxox**


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